Why Me?
by nhsweetcherry
Summary: Face being Face, in a particularly short vignette!


_I just found this on my computer from ages ago, and decided that I'd post it as a vignette, even though I'm sure I had a more extensive plot planned at some point. Sorry for the brevity…my plot bunnies tend to be fickle to the extreme!_

_ I do not own these characters, and I am making no profit from this story._

"Mr. Peck? Can you hear me? Mr. Peck?"

Face's eyes slowly blinked open and he stared in confusion up at white ceiling panels. Turning to look to his left, he winced as the movement caused his head to begin throbbing – but he quickly forgot the pain as he caught sight of two lovely young nurses bending over him.

"Well, hello, there," he said – or, at least, that was what he tried to say. It came out more like a cross between a grumble and a moan. He blinked again and the second nurse disappeared – ah, double vision. Must be a concussion. How had it happened, though? And where was the rest of the team? Suddenly alarmed, he tried to push himself up into a sitting position, only to fall back with a groan as aches and pains flared up all over his body – in particular, his head and left arm throbbed intensely in time with his pulse. He groggily lifted his arm, wondering why it felt so heavy, and grimaced as he discovered that his wrist and forearm were immobilized in a white plaster cast. He groaned again – why was it always him?

The nurse's cool hand rested on his shoulder. "Mr. Peck, I really must ask you to lie still – you need to rest. Now, do you think you can answer a couple questions for me?"

Face nodded, hoping that the questions would help him remember how he'd ended up with a concussion, a broken arm and what felt like one big bruise all over his body – and why the team wasn't there to make fun of him while he grumbled and complained. Hopefully they weren't somewhere waiting for him to rescue them…

"Okay, Mr. Peck – what is your full name?"

He wrestled with that one for a moment – which ID had he been using today? Then he nearly rolled his eyes, wondering just how hard he had hit his head – if she was calling him Mr. Peck, then the answer was obvious. "Templeton Peck," he replied. Thankfully his voice seemed to be back under his control.

She scribbled something in the medical file she held. "What day of the week is it, Mr. Peck?"

"Um, Tuesday? Yeah, Tuesday the second," he said. Little flashes of memory were beginning to come back to him, and he knew that something important had been happening on that particular day. He could hear Hannibal's voice in his mind, explaining the details of their job – _"Now Face, tomorrow is Tuesday. That's the day that Sanchez said he'd be back. While we're throwing him a little welcome party here, you'll be at his place, seeing what kind of stuff he keeps in his safe." _The rest of the details flooded back into his mind then, and he sighed in relief.

"Mr. Peck? Are you all right?" The nurse was watching him with a concerned expression, and he realized that she had been trying to get his attention for a few moments.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Face said, flashing her a brilliant smile. "I was just remembering what happened. I was hit by a car – well, a truck, to be more specific." Sanchez had apparently either changed his mind about his Tuesday plans or forgotten something in his office; in any case, he had returned while Face was still working. Face had escaped the building with a little help from his .357, but Sanchez must have radioed to some of his men who were still outside. Jogging past an alleyway, Face had been struck by a huge pickup truck and sent flying. The last thing he remembered was a sharp pain in his head as he bounced off the sidewalk.

"Yes, you were in a hit and run accident," she said. "In fact, there's a police officer in the hallway waiting to ask you a few questions about the vehicle that hit you. Would you like me to call him in now?"

Face's heart skipped a beat. "Well, I don't know, nurse," he replied, settling more deeply under the covers and trying to look pathetic. "My head is really starting to hurt. If it's not too much trouble for the officer, can you ask him to drop by again later?" He blinked sleepily and reflected that his words actually weren't too much of a lie – he had one nasty headache.

"That's fine, Mr. Peck," the nurse said with compassion. "You rest, and the doctor will be by in a few minutes to check on you. If you need anything, just push this button."

Face grabbed her hand before she could step back. "Oh, there is just one little thing, nurse. Could I have my jacket? It was, uh, a gift from my late mother, and I just like to, you know, keep it close." He tried for a sad, lost-looking smile and watched with satisfaction as the nurse practically melted into a puddle of sympathy.

"Of course, Mr. Peck," she said. She walked over to a small closet at the foot of the bed, retrieving Face's black leather jacket and handing it reverently to him.

He held it close. "Thank you, nurse. You have no idea what this means to me."

Returning his smile with slightly flushed cheeks, she checked his IV and left the room, depositing his medical file in a pocket on the outside of the door.

He heard her talking briefly with a man – presumably the police officer – and then things were quiet in the hallway. Face wasted no time in reaching into a hidden pocket and was glad to discover that the nurse had not found what he kept there – a syringe and a small bottle of the tranquilizer they used to get BA onto airplanes. He prepared the needle, putting in quite a bit less of the clear liquid than they used for BA. Holding the needle under the covers, he lay back and tried not to doze off as he waited for the doctor.

Dr. Kramer walked into the room a few minutes later, snagging Face's medical chart on the way. "Good afternoon, Mr. Peck. It's very good to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a truck," Face joked weakly. "My head and arm hurt the worst, although I've noticed that my right hip has been feeling worse. I think that's where the truck hit me. I don't have any broken bones in my leg, do I?"

The doctor's brow furrowed as he bent over Face and gently probed at his hip. "The x-rays were negative," he said reassuringly. "Let me take a look, though. Where exactly does it hurt – ow!"

He straightened up and rubbed at his own hip, where Face had just injected him with the tranquilizer, then a dazed look spread over his face and he slowly crumpled down onto the bed, sprawling across Face's legs.

Face winced. He was glad that the doctor had fallen somewhere soft, but did it have to be on top of his bruised legs?

A few minutes later, a different "patient" was snoozing under the thin hospital blanket, as the "doctor" tried to adjust his white coat to hide the cast on his arm. Doing his best to walk in a straight line despite his spinning head, Face strode grumpily down the hall toward the exit. Anyone who passed him may or may not have heard the muttered words, "Why me?"


End file.
